


That ol' Slytherin Smoulder

by amoama



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: But still porn, M/M, not the porn I was asked for, prompt: Smoulder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-17 16:05:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18101864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amoama/pseuds/amoama
Summary: Draco and Ron pay a visit to the Slytherin common room. Draco gets frisky.





	That ol' Slytherin Smoulder

Draco lazes over the Slytherin common room chaise longue, waiting for Ron to de-Gryffindor enough to follow him in. The décor has not been altered at all since he was at school here and the house elves clearly know how to care for all the vintage upholstery. It’s been years since Draco has felt anything so luxurious. His life now is a series of Weasley family spare rooms and the loft/attic studio dump that Ron affectionately labels their Den and strews his clothes everywhere in. Ron refuses to let them get a house elf, even paid, because of some scruples Hermione has, so it only really gets tidied if Ron’s mum is coming to visit. 

Ron enters the common room looking for all the world like he is trespassing and Snape might show up and give him detention re-labelling unlabelled potions or something. He is practically creeping on his tippy toes, and he keeps checking nervously behind him. He looks tense enough that he’d leap a mile in the air if someone caught him unawares. Draco grins to himself. He was already planning on making the most of this opportunity but now he is also motivated by the need to get Ron relaxed and boneless on this Slytherin green damask silk chair. 

“Oh, Weeeeasley,” Draco taunts, unbuttoning his shirt. He’s wearing leather trousers which, to be honest, will be tricky because he usually needs Ron’s help with getting them off. But he can usually make that work for him and he looks fucking hot in them anyway. He can tell by the obscene way Ron is blushing, already. In fact, he looks totally stricken. 

“Draco, stop it, no, this is not happening. It’s bad enough we’re in here...” Ron casts another agonised glance around him. 

“It’s fine that I’m in here!” Draco points out, “this was my house, and it’s actually fine you’re here too, seeing as we’re 30 years old and no longer defined by the school housing system. And anyway, it’s the school holidays and nobody is here to witness your _greatest act of treachery._ ” He laces his words with some top-shelf Malfoy sarcasm, guaranteed to send Ron through the roof. 

He removes his shirt completely while Ron seethes and blusters. He gives Ron his most smouldering look, the one that walks the thinnest of lines between ‘come hither’ and ‘fuck right off’. The fact that Ron can’t tell the difference is basically why they’re together. 

Ron comes hither. “Well, we’re being quick about it,” Ron protests, merely for the record.

“Yes, yes, this is all my idea, my fault etcetera etcetera, start sucking me off already.” 

Draco unzips his pants and raises his hips in the air, which is the most he can do until Ron comes and assists on the trouser front. Ron does assist, pulling them off without ceremony and manoeuvring Draco how he wants him, to get at his cock. His lips slide down around Draco in the practised way that speaks of thousands of blow jobs shared. Basically it means Draco is guaranteed to come in less than a minute. Ron’s efficiency, the way his hand and lips are working, sucking fast and tight, the flat press of his tongue that sends Draco wild, are clearly all designed to get this over with as fast as possible. Draco lets it happen, he’s naked, stretched out on the chaise longue being sucked off by Weasley in the Slytherin common room - it’s probably his most secret schoolboy fantasy come to life. He feels wanton and decadent and the intensity of his pleasure builds deliciously towards his imminent climax.

Ron spits his come in protest at their surroundings. Draco reflexively spells it clean before it hits the ground. Ron grunts out “hey” but Draco can tell he’s also a bit impressed that Draco managed the spell while still slumped in a post-orgasm haze. Ron can literally do no spells after coming. He can’t really do anything, which is why it is generally important to their relationship that Draco come first whenever possible. 

Ron has slumped a bit across Draco’s chest, worn out somewhat by his efforts but still clearly in need of some attention. Draco wriggles underneath Ron until they are rearranged enough that Draco can slide down Ron’s body, he pulls down Ron’s offensive corduroys (“grown up trousers”, apparently) just enough to release his cock. He does not think Ron will appreciate being wantonly naked in the Slytherin common room as much as Draco would love to see it. 

Draco adores Ron’s cock, it is substantial and lacking in all subtlety and it stands to attention now as much as every other time Draco has so much as looked at it. It’s reliability is it’s defining characteristic. Draco licks and kisses it now, making sure that Ron gets properly worked up and uncomfortable splayed out on the chair. Draco has a rule about not letting Ron come until he is blushing pink, head to toe, root to tip. It’s really not a hard rule to master, and really it’s not even a hard and fast rule, but Draco abides by it today, watching for the curl of Ron’s feet before really starting to apply any meaningful suction. When he does he is rewarded with Ron’s hand in his hair, meanly tight, like in the old days. This room must really be getting to Ron. 

Ron comes, swearing, and Draco waits until he has Ron’s attention before he swallows with great deliberation. Equally deliberate, he slithers his way back up Ron’s body, coming to rest with his arms crossed over Ron’s chest. He kisses him with the tender, familiar kisses they often exchange back at the Den after moments like these. He reminds Ron with his kisses, how different things are now, how different _they_ are. Ron kisses back with only token resentment (pursed lips, set-upon sighs), so Draco knows he gets it. Draco feels Ron’s body relaxing underneath him, practically melting into the chaise’s cushions. 

Eventually Draco rallies himself enough to mutter, “Scourgify,” against Ron’s lips. Children will be returning here in September after all, and it’s not really fair to leave house elves to do any more of this sort of cleaning. 

“Come on,” Draco says, “time to go celebrate with Hogwarts’ latest professorial appointee.” Draco gets on fine with Hermione, he respects her and all that bollocks, but every now and then he gets antsy about the whole ex-girlfriend thing and well, that leads to this, apparently.


End file.
